


Are you the guy from the hopper?

by ClueingforBEGGs



Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Accident, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-01 12:11:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18800095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClueingforBEGGs/pseuds/ClueingforBEGGs
Summary: Driving a hopper around the smallest moon in the solar system is, quite frankly, not how Lister imagined falling in love. And he definitely, definitely, didn't imagine he'd be signing up for a job in the space corps.





	Are you the guy from the hopper?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing from memory because I can't find IWCD online and I also don't really want my parents to know that I write gay fanfiction (or fanfiction of any kind really) so don't want to risk typing this with the book in front of me. However, I did fact check how long it is between Lister having the interview and joining the Red Dwarf, at least a night. Thanks JimJams.

'Do you have any further requests?'

Dave Lister had zoned out, looking at a poster behind the head of the interviewer. 'Space corps, Join the corps, see space.' it read. He changed his focus to another poster. 'Houses on Triton for sale. Call for a sketch.' then 'Europan Space Agency! Do not confuse us with the European Space Agency' poster finally, and getting quite bored, he focussed on a poster of a giant red ship with 'Jupiter Mining Corporation' written above it. Another poster advertised the USA's 'National Aero-' something, the rest of the poster was hidden by the 'Space Corps surprisingly shows you space' poster.

'Mr Lister, do you have any further requests?'

'Oh, sorry.' Lister shifted his gaze back to the man in front of him. 'Yeah, do you have an employee-'

'Many'

'Nah, a specific one. He's really hot.'

The interviewer raised an eyebrow. 'So you're looking for-'

'Tall, curly dark hair, nice eyes. Think they're a sort of... greeny brown? I caught his last name, it was Rimmer.'

The interviewer sighed.

'Well, aren't you going to write that down? Or search your database-y thing-y for him?'

'Mr Lister, I'm not going to put in a request for you to be stationed with this Rimmer guy.'

'Well, can you search the database-y thing?'

The interviewer sighed. 'Do you promise to not keep on pleading for me to station you with this Rimmer guy?' Lister nodded, and the interviewer sighed, before searching the database. 'There are four Rimmer's listed.'

'Oh.'

'Well, not to worry, there's nothing available at the minute for someone with your qualifications, which is, to say, none.' The interviewer held out his hand to shake Lister's. 'But I'll call you back if anything comes up.'

Lister nodded, gave the interviewer a finger gun and a thumbs up, and turned to leave. The interviewer sighed. Something intrigued him, somehow. 'One last question...'

'Shoot.' said Lister, turning around.

'Why do you want to find this guy?'

'I told you. Love.'

'Yes, but why?'

'Because... I kinda made a mess. And I want to give it another go.'

Just then, the computer beeped. It continued to beep incessantly and urgently, and Lister found himself rushed out of the interviewer's office. 

* * *

Lister had smegged up. 

He hadn't smegged up when he'd allowed a stranger to knock him out and steal his money, he hadn't smegged up when he'd ignored to orders of his client to wait for him in the hopper (which led to him being knocked out) no. He had smegged up later. 

Lister stood inside the brothel with the neon signs proclaiming 'Girls Girls Girls' and 'Sex Sex Sex' and 'Boys Boys Boys' There was a man in front of him who was choosing the parts he wanted for his droid. 

'Sir what sort of girl do you want?'

'I... No, sorry, I'm not-'

'Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of, we have boy droids too.'

'No, I'm here for someone.' Lister said as a male droid was taken past him being held by two of the people who worked here. The droid was being led away from one of the rooms, and so he poked his head round the corner. 

'She nearly tore it off!' complained the man from the taxi. There was no mistaking him, not his strong Ionian accent, not his height, the fact he was dressed as an admiral, or his curly hair. 

Lister looked behind him at the droid, definitely male, maybe he was mishearing things. 

'We are sorry, sir, it was a malfunction. Our female droids are probably in better condition, as they're used more. If you would like-' Lister grinned and punched the air, he had definitely misheard the 'she' 

'Yes!' he hissed, and the man looked up at him, went bright red, and hastily stood up.

'You know what? I'm starting to think this isn't even a restaurant!' said the man, pointing a finger at the confused employee. 'Plus, why would you give me a male droid? I'm quite clearly a man myself!' he turned and stormed towards Lister. 

The two walked out onto the street and into the waiting hopper. Once inside, Lister started the engine and it hopped off down the street. 

'You didn't ask me where to?' questioned the man.

'Look, man, you don't have to be ashamed.' said Lister. 'I mean, about the male droid. I get it, I'm bisexual.'

'Oh. You heard that.' said the man, holding onto his fake mustache as the hopper landed awkwardly. 

'Yeah, I mean, in most places in the solar system, you don't have to be ashamed of that. But I get it, you're from, you know, Io. And I get it, you've grown up with your whole moon tellin' ya that you're wrong, right, but that's just 'cause the people there think that it was much better when King Victor was on the throne, or whatever.'

Oh my God! thought Lister. I meet a hot man and instantly try to win him over by  _insulting the people of the place he's from!_ Lister internally groaned, as the man behind him glared daggers at him. 

'Oh, "Queen Victor" is that the sort of history they teach you in... In...' He thought for a second. 'Venusian history classes? Everyone knows it was Queen Victoria. In my opinion, too much of that is focused on-' The man gave a yelp as he slammed into the roof of the hopper. 'That's not the roads! That's the suspension!'

'Not Venus.' replied Lister. 'Liverpool.'

'Liverpool, you're just making things up, no way is that a place, that sounds like somebody's filled a swimming pool with organs!'

'Oh, it's a place.'

'Well, where is it then?'

'Earth.'

They travelled in silence for a bit, with Lister's customer glaring at him, before he realised he hadn't asked where to.

'Where to?'

* * *

 _URGENT:_ read the headline of the urgent e-mail that flashed up on the screen of the interviewer's computer. _Do not send recruits to Oregan, ship flying backwards at alarming rate._

Below that was another message:  _Recruit wanted, JMC-RD._

The interviewer clicked on the first e-mail, which had been dictated by the captain.  _Rabbits onboard. Chewed through wires. Flying backwards, send. Bloody hell! There's rabbits everywhere! Parkinson, move that Netherland Dwarf so I can sit down... Send damnit... Send! Send! Send e-mail!_

He forwarded the message to the people who write the Space Corps Directives and opened the second e-mail.

_Recruit wanted: Rank: Third Technician. Shit: Holly, does that say shit? I said Shift. Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Backspace._

He scrolled past the backspaces. 

_Ft: Z shift. Stop recording. Holly, I swear to God it would be faster for me to type this and then file Rimmer's complaints._

He scanned the rest of the e-mail before hitting respond.  _Would this guy interest you?_ he typed, before scanning Lister's response into the computer. Granted, he was pretty sure that the captain would much rather not employ someone whose surname had been tip-exed over and only had a failed technical design GCSE, but, fortunately for Lister (and unfortunately for the captain), there were no other possible recruits on his database. 

Twenty-four hours later there was a reply in his inbox.  _Sure. Now, Holly, go to the end e-mail line. Captain Hollister. Holly, send._

* * *

'You.'

'Look, man, I just wanted to say sorry.'

'And you came all this way just to say one word?'

'Nah... I also came to tell you I think you're pretty hot. And annoying. Super annoying, man. But then, I bet I'm also really annoying.'

'Very.' the man, Rimmer, stood opposite Lister in the bunkroom. Their bunkroom. 

'But, y'know what? We're on this ship for four years, might as well make something of it.' Lister lit his cigarette and blew a smoke ring.

'A cigarette? You're dead, Lister.'

'Told ya!' Lister stuck his tongue out. 'I annoy you, you annoy me, we're already an old married couple... Rimsy..'

Rimmer glared at him. 'I... I guess... Underneath the annoyingness... You're possibly... My type?'

'Is that your way of saying "I'm a smeghead but I love you?" '

'No, it's my way of saying 'Maybe, if you give it some time and work out what a bar of soap is used for, we could work... Listy.'

Lister blew a kiss, followed by a smoke ring. This prompted Rimmer to head over to the cupboard, remove something, and slap it on the wall behind his bed.

It was a no smoking sign. 


End file.
